Author's Note: Finally out of the desert.

Prompt Set #37 (December 2013)

Richard Laymon

The Direct Approach

Home

Emily leaned back against the headboard with her arms crossed. She was watching Aaron hustle around her bedroom.

Two plus hours earlier they'd just (finally!) been able to get back home to Virginia. That was after seventeen long ass days out in Nevada, fourteen of which had been spent in the damn clinic.

It was the longest span of time she'd been away from her home in TWELVE years!

And even though they were now home home, Hotch seemed to have lost the memo stating that she was now officially OFF of full time bed rest. Case in point, they'd gotten to her place like an hour ago, and he still wasn't allowing her to do anything besides actually lie in bed!

It was driving her CRAZY!

As soon as that thought came to her, Emily felt a twinge of guilt come right along behind it. Because of course . . . her jaw clenched . . . his over protectiveness was very sweet too. Really at the moment it was kind of a fifty/fifty combo of the very sweet and the driving her completely around the bend, thing. And it wasn't that she didn't appreciate his concerns, of course she did, but last night she'd finally gotten the all clear from Captain Nichols to once more start walking and talking like a fully grown adult. Okay, granted, she hadn't been cleared yet for field work . . . she had an appointment with her OB on Monday to sort that out . . . but for all of her other non shooty/stabby/serial killery life things, she was medically good to go. Which meant that she could do basic stuff like, oh, walking around for instance!

Though at this second . . . she good naturedly shook her head at the handsome man hurrying around her bedroom . . . it was all evidence to the contrary.

Which was a little weird really, because he hadn't been behaving like this, so overprotective that is, since the first couple of days she'd spent at the clinic. But back then when she was basically an invalid and totally doped up, Hotch, as her loving partner and father of the tiny baby growing inside of her, opting to drop everything to hover by her side and wait on her hand and foot, had completely made sense.

It was no less than she would have done for him if he'd been injured.

But then as her recovery had moved along, he'd become more Normal Hotch and less Super Overprotective Hotch. Normal Hotch was still a total sweetie though and basically yes, he did pretty much cater to her every stupid whim, but he didn't hover. Never. He just . . . her eyes crinkled slightly . . . looked after her. But he still allowed her to look after herself too.

Then all of that had changed on the jet.

If she turned her head, he asked if she needed a pillow. If she touched her arm, "was she cold? Did she need another blanket?" She got up to make herself a cup of tea, he'd actually ESCORTED her back to her seat so he could get it for her himself!

It was embarrassing!

It was so bad that if she hadn't (discreetly) smacked his arm, he would have CARRIED her to the God damn bathroom! Seriously, even on base she'd walked to the bathroom by herself!

And then it had gotten even worse after they'd landed.

That's when she'd discovered that Hotch had arranged for a pool car to be waiting ON the tarmac for them! Yeah, they'd actually driven from the tarmac to the parking garage, like they were the freaking Rockefellers or something. Okay, he actually did give JJ and Reid a ride along too so that was nice of him, but still, again, it was embarrassing for her, because SHE was the reason that they had the car! But for like that whole eight plus hour period of their trip home, they'd been in front of other people (the team, but still) so she couldn't have the desperately needed sit down with him about cutting down on the crazy.

Admittedly though, he wasn't the only one being a bit more 'attentive' to her needs than usual.

Really, even taking Hotch out of the equation, she wouldn't have wanted for a damn thing on that jet. Dave, Morgan, JJ . . . even Reid, every time she'd moved, she'd felt all of them watching her. Then JJ, when they were all driving from the tarmac to the parking garage, she seriously asked at least five times if it might be better if she stayed with her for the rest of the weekend.

Just until Emily was settled.

So Emily had had to tell her that Hotch was bringing her home and then her mom was coming over and she'd be with her until Monday. It was just a little white lie about her weekend companion, but JJ was being so nice, that Emily actually felt really badly about it. But of course she couldn't be truthful and say, "thanks for the offer to spend the weekend, but it'll be a little crowded with Hotch sharing the bathroom too!"

Obviously that approach was a "no."

But after everything that had happened this past month, at this point it had obviously become clear to the rest of the team that she and Hotch were very close. Probably much closer than any of them had realized before. But even given him riding in the chopper with her and having that bed at the clinic, Emily was still fairly certain that nobody else knew that they were sleeping together. They certainly didn't hold hands or whisper or 'make out' in front of anyone.

God . . . she bit down a gag . . . that would just be gross!

But regardless, the others were going to believe what they were going to believe, and there was nothing that neither she nor Hotch could do about it either way. And eventually, as in within the next two months, she and Hotch actually would be voluntarily disclosing their relationship. But that was just for practical reasons. She was going to be showing soon and if she was having a baby, that baby had to have a father. And she sure as hell wasn't going to lie and say it came from a test tube.

So they were just going to deal with that grenade . . ."here is my baby belly and here is the baby belly maker" . . . when the time came.

In the meantime though, she was planning on enjoying their last weeks of "anonymity." All she'd wanted to do for days was just get back to her own home, and putter around doing her own stuff like she had been for the majority of her adult life.

And she wanted to do that ALONE.

Okay, well not alone, alone she definitely wanted Hotch there too. Because after the last three plus weeks of him sleeping mere inches to feet away, it felt strange, and sad, to think about him actually going back to his apartment again. Of course before they'd left, she would have said that it was much too soon for full on, full time, living together. But so much had changed since then. So now, even if it wasn't yet official, Emily was considering the condo to be their home, not just hers.

She was hoping that he felt that way too.

Either way, once they got back to her/their place, that's where Super Overprotective Hotch, had really stepped up his game. Rather than simply parking the car in her parking spot like a normal (sane) person, instead he'd driven around to drop her off at the front entrance to the apartment building. Then he'd asked her to wait for him in the lobby. And she'd wanted to tell him, "no, that's ridiculous, I can ride the freaking elevator by myself."

But she didn't.

And that was because he'd asked so nicely, and deferentially, with that little half dimple that he knew she couldn't refuse. So after rolling her eyes, she'd given him a kiss, and done just as he'd requested she do.

Sat in that stupid, freezing cold lobby, like a damn fool.

And while she was there she'd made awkward chitchat with the doorman (with the lingering bruises on her face, there weren't many ways to sugarcoat why she'd been out of town for most of the month), while waiting for Hotch to find a parking place, hoist all of their joint crap out of the trunk (that was ready bags, laptops, ammo, and case files) and then drag everything though the parking lot, up the front stairs, and into the lobby.

It was ridiculous.

More so when he'd finally arrived in the lobby and still had insisted on carrying everything up to the apartment all by himself. Like she couldn't have just stood there on the elevator with a couple straps hanging off her shoulders? She rolled her eyes.

God forbid!

But the WORST thing, as in the most insane thing, was when they actually got inside. She was so happy to be home, and she was touching the door and the counters and genuinely feeling so BLESSED that she was able to come back and just be there again.

She was walking back into her life.

Then when she'd started to take off her coat, she was chattering happily about taking a hot bath and lying in bed and watching some TV, when all of a sudden . . . Hotch was right there in her space again.

For a few seconds he'd disappeared down into the living room. But then he came back and he was helping her off with her jacket, and hanging it in the closet and she was just about to say, "honey, we need to talk," when he'd SCOOPED her up, and carried her up the staircase! Her lips pursed slightly.

Like she was paralyzed or something!

All right, granted, given that the only walking she'd really done for the last three weeks had been the ten steps back and forth from the bathroom to her navy assigned, "cot," her legs were a slight bit wobbly, but, well . . . her brow wrinkled . . . okay, yeah, fine maybe the carrying up the stairs thing wasn't so insane. That was actually more in the "looking out for her well being" and just being a super sweet guy, category. Her fist clenched . . . damn it.

Indignation foiled!

But wait . . . she felt a little surge of it coming back . . . then there was the stuff that had happened right after they'd gotten upstairs. First he'd made her a hot bath (okay fine, that was what she'd said she wanted to do before anything else), then he'd helped her get undressed (that was actually pretty fun, his hands had very definitely been roaming everywhere that they hadn't been able to roam in weeks), and then he'd helped her into the tub.

She did actually need the help because her legs were a little stiff.

Then he'd given her a kiss and left her alone to soak for twenty minutes. The water had just been starting to cool down when he'd come back in to wash her hair, and help her out of the tub again. All right . . . her expression softened . . . that whole sequence of events was ridiculously nice and sweet too. Especially afterwards, when he'd toweled her whole body dry, hair included, and got her into her fuzzy Hello Kitty pajamas, before settling her in on the bed with the iPad and the remote.

And he did that so she would keep herself occupied while he got the condo tidied up.

Apparently he'd gone around watering the plants and running back down to the lobby to collect her mail while she was in the bathroom.

Now he was unpacking their ready bags.

All of their clean clothes were being tucked away . . . he had two drawers in the dresser and a quarter of the closet, so there was an official place for his stuff to go too . . . and he had sorted all of their dirty clothes into dark and light piles on the floor. And . . . she bit her lip as she watched him from across the room . . . okay, now he was pulling out all fresh clothes from the dressers and closet, and repacking her bag.

Yes fine, God DAMN it that was just adorable too!

Jesus! Was he just being absolutely PERFECT in every way today, and she was just being Incredibly Grumpy Pregnant Lady not appreciating how absolutely perfect in every way, that he was?! Her brow crinkled.

Hmm, maybe.

That was just when her stomach grumbled and she realized what the baseline problem might actually be, and had been.

She was hungry.

Like, REALLY, hungry. Like eat a horse dipped in peanut butter and chocolate, if it was socially acceptable, hungry.

And even though the last few days of her hospitalization, she'd been back to basically a 'normal' diet, she'd still been eating an awful lot of healthy crap there. And now that she'd reached a major level of "hangry," she was craving all of her long missed junk food.

Because it didn't help that it was coming up on four pm, and she hadn't eaten since eleven.

So in an effort to right her blood sugar and stop mentally cursing her wonderful man who really (in retrospect) hadn't done anything wrong at all, she started to shimmy herself over to the side of the bed. But of course that movement immediately caught Hotch's attention, and he popped up from where he was crouching over her bag.

"What," his eyes widened, "you need something?"

"Yeah," she smiled, probably her first non-exasperated smile all day, "I'm just going to go see what edible food I still have in the house." She patted her growing belly, "Hotchkin's getting hungry."

Whenever possible, it was always best to blame her ravenous hunger on the baby. That way she didn't sound quite so Augustus Gloop'ish when she ate an entire side of bacon for dinner.

Hotch's lip quirked up.

"Well, then it's a good thing that Chad is on his way over with a large sausage and mushroom pizza."

Emily's face lit up.

"Oooh!" she clapped her hands together, "seriously?!" Then she squealed, "When did you call him?!"

YES!

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly at Emily's enthusiasm for essentially, dinner.

"After I got the mail," he responded with a faint smile, "and before I cleaned out your fridge. You had some dairy products that did not survive our lengthy absence. I'll pick up some milk a little later so you can have your Honey Nut Cheerios tomorrow."

Feeling her expression softening even as her eyes started to sting . . . good God, he really was just perfect in every way(!) . . . Emily put her hand out.

"Come sit with me, honey," she wriggled her fingers, "you're going to wear yourself out running around."

"Eh," Hotch gave a shrug as he walked over to the bed, "nothing strenuous, just a little tidying up."

"Well," Emily pouted while simultaneously catching his fingers, "then maybe you could sit down with me just because?"

"Yeah," his eyes crinkled, "maybe I could do that."

So he climbed up onto the covers with her, and then he lifted his arm up, so Emily could snuggle into his side. Once he heard the contented sigh coming from his girl, Hotch brushed his fingertips through the damp tendrils of her hair.

She smelled like flowers.

"You know, sweetheart," he started softly, "there was another reason that I've been tidying up. It's Saturday afternoon, and um," he cleared his throat, "well, I need to leave and go get Jack."

Though he hated to bring it up now when she was lying comfortably, he'd already been putting off this discussion for the last hour and a half. That's why he'd been running around like an idiot trying to get everything and ANYTHING straightened up and pulled together that she might possibly think to try to do in his absence. He didn't want her doing anything.

Nothing but resting.

"Oh," Emily's head popped up as her eyes snapped over to his, "Aaron, why didn't you say something earlier? Of course! I'm sorry, I lost track of the days." Then she patted his chest, "you go now, I'll be fine. I have cash. I'll pay Chad when he gets here and I'll see you tomorrow."

God, no wonder he was so manic running around cleaning up. He needed to leave!

But then she heard him take another breath, and she looked up to see him biting his lip.

"What?" Her brow inched up, "will I not see you tomorrow?"

"No," Hotch shook his head, "no, it's not that, I'll definitely be here tomorrow, but um, I had this idea, but I wanted to run it past you before I did it." He looked down at her hopefully. "And absolutely please feel free to say no without any explanation at all if you don't think it's a good idea, and I will totally understand and let it go without any follow-up."

"Well," Emily's nose wrinkled in confusion, "what's the idea?" Then she straightened up slightly to tuck her foot underneath her, "what are you talking about?"

"Well, uh," Hotch rubbed his free hand down his leg, "I was trying to think of how to take care of both you and Jack, and so I was wondering if you would maybe be okay with me bringing him over here. You know," he added quickly, "just for this weekend, so I don't have to leave you all alone. Because you really," he shook his head vehemently, "really, should not be going up and down the stairs yet all by yourself."

Though this was a rather ham handed, awkwardly abrupt situation whereas to introduce Emily to his son, as soon as he'd seen how wobbly she was getting off the plane . . . even with his arm around her waist she'd stumbled twice on the stair car . . . he'd known that there was just no way in hell that he could leave her alone for twenty-four hours, in a two story home.

Not with that metal deathtrap otherwise known as a staircase.

And if she didn't agree to Jack staying with them, then he was going to ask JJ if he could take her up on her offer to Emily to come over and stay in the spare room until Sunday night. She'd mentioned it repeatedly when he was driving her to her car, and Emily had repeatedly, politely, turned her down, saying she'd be okay. But the offer was technically still out there, so he'd gladly snap it up!

"Aaron," Emily's eyes crinkled as she reached out to touch his cheek, "I would LOVE to have Jack come stay with us."

"Yeah?" Hotch looked over at her in surprise, "really?"

"Yes," she grinned, "really. I know how much you've missed him, so you need to spend as much time with him as you can. But I also know," she gave him an indulgent smile, "that you'll be worried sick about me and Hotchkin if you're twenty-four miles away from us for the rest of the weekend. So obviously putting all three of us under the same roof is the only solution for you to keep your sanity."

Silly man. How could he ever have been worried about her saying no to such a request? Especially after he'd stayed out in Nevada with her all these weeks, and missed all that time with his son.

She'd have to be a monster to make him choose between them now!

"And you have no reservations with this?" he asked worriedly. "Because I don't want to push the introduction on you. It's obviously been a hell of a month, and I didn't want to stress you out with the big first meeting and then a three year old in the house for the next day and a half."

His son was exceptionally well behaved, but still, he was three. And that was an age which could be a bit rambunctious no matter how well behaved they were.

"Honey," Emily rubbed Hotch's chest, "we were going to do this soon anyway. And actually," her eyes crinkled slightly, "it's kind of less stressful just pulling the trigger right now and it'll be done. I won't have any time to worry about making a horrible first impression. He'll just be here, and we'll say hi, and eat pizza and," she shrugged, "that'll be that."

The big meet and greet with her boyfriend's son had admittedly been weighing on her mind since they'd first found out about Hotchkin. The eventual blending of their families had constantly been on the horizon. And she'd been worrying that maybe Jack wouldn't like her, or that things might just be weird and awkward. So this way . . . the simple 'ripping off a band aid' way . . . probably would be best for everyone. And if this weekend went well then, super, maybe they could get together next weekend too. And if it didn't go well, then she'd just regroup and they could try again in a couple weeks. Eventually they'd make it all work.

Somehow.

But she could see that Hotch was still processing her firm 'yes' to the whole idea. Because he was staring at her like he was just waiting for her to take it back. Finally though, it seemed to sink in, because a little smile spread across his face.

"Great," he sighed, "that is," he leaned over to give her a kiss, "great news. Thank you," he smacked another kiss on her lips, "thank you very much, sweetheart. So okay," he started to slide off the bed, "I'm just going to hang around a few minutes more for Chad to get here, and then I'll go get Jack. I called Haley and I told her I'd pick him up by four."

"Aaron," Emily pointed towards the door, "just go now. I'm fine, I promise. I can pay Chad when he gets here."

"Oh no," Hotch quickly shook his head, "no, I was very serious about the stairs. You can't do them yet by yourself. Your muscles aren't strong enough."

Emily's brow wrinkled.

"What are you . . . ?"

And then she stopped, because she'd just flashed on the muscle cramps she'd gotten halfway down the stair car. It was like everything clenched up, and it had caused her to stumble. But Hotch's arm had already been around her.

So he'd caught her.

And she hadn't even really realized it at the time.

But that was why, she suddenly realized, he'd been so adamant about her not walking anywhere alone. And why he'd helped her in and out of the bath, and carried her up the stairs. It wasn't just that he was being sweet.

He was terrified that she was going to fall.

And admittedly neither she, nor Hotchkin, were up to a tumble down the stairs, or onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor. And now that she understood Hotch's concerns, although she still wanted to tell him to go, that she'd be fine, she could see now that really would be unwise.

Their baby could not take any more trauma.

So instead of making hollow assurances that she wasn't physically capable of backing up yet, she put her hand out, and gave Hotch a little smile.

"If you help me downstairs now, I'll just get settled in on the couch instead of up here. Then I'll just have to walk down the hall to pay Chad."

Though her bed actually would have been more comfortable . . . and dear God had she missed it . . . if dragging her pillow and blanket downstairs would give Hotch the peace of mind to leave and go get his son, of course that's what she would do.

"Uhhh," for a second Hotch stammered to think of a response to Emily's perfectly logical counterproposal. It seemed like there was a catch there, but it wasn't readily apparent.

But then he was saved by the bell, or rather . . . the door knocker.

Somebody was clanging it against the hard metal door.

Chad!

"Oh," he put his hand up, "there we go! Problem solved, pizza's here." He put his finger up, "be right back."

And then he hurried out of the room before Emily could suggest another counterpoint. Like just helping her down the stairs anyway and that she would still just nap on the couch until he got home. But he didn't want her to nap on the couch. He wanted her to be comfortable. And he knew that she'd be more comfortable upstairs.

Emily waited patiently for Hotch to come back up the stairs. And when he did two minutes later with the giant cardboard box, a red plastic cup, and her two liter bottle of Caffeine Free, Diet Coke, she smiled.

"Is this just for me?" She joked as he put the box down on the bed, "or am I expected to save you some?"

"Well," Hotch's lips twitched, "if you could save me a slice that would be great. But," he looked up at her with a little smile, "if you do mow the whole thing down, fortunately I did get a small cheese pizza for Jack," he tipped his head, "I figured even if you hadn't agreed to him staying over I'd just take the pizza with me. So either way, I'll have some dinner."

Though he would prefer to have some of the 'grown up' pizza, he'd already learned not to get between Emily and junk food.

A man could lose a finger.

"Well," her eyes crinkled, "seeing as you've been sooo amazingly good to me today," she leaned up to smack a kiss on his lips, "I think I can share an equal amount of the pie. I'll just have a slice to stop my stomach rumbling, and then wait for you to get back to finish my dinner." Her eyebrow quirked up, "sound good?"

Though it was going to be hard . . . she really was STARVING . . . she could suffice with just the one slice until he got back. After all it was a big pizza, ergo, should be a big slice.

Hopefully.

"Yep," Hotch shot her a dimple, "sounds perfect. And also," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I got us a salad too. Because you know," he reached out to touch her belly, "Hotchkin needs those greens."

Though Emily was good about keeping up on her vitamins and cutting back on all the stuff she was supposed to cut back on to grow a healthy baby, he was constantly trying to get more vegetables into her. Not that she didn't eat ANY on her own, she did. Her daily nine to five food intake was generally quite healthy. Granted that was in part because he ate lunch with her every day. But it was more that when they got home from work, her appetite caught up with her. And . . . his eyes crinkled as he saw her giving him a dutiful nod . . . she just really loved her junk food.

"I know," Emily placed her hand over Hotch's, "and I promise, I'm going to be much better about that now that we're home. I'm going to look up some of those recipes, you know," her nose scrunched, "the ones where you hide the vegetables in like cupcakes and stuff. I think that's my best approach here because," she pouted, "I really don't like snacking on carrot sticks."

God knew she'd tried. Ever since she'd found out that she was pregnant, she'd been reading the books, and all the pamphlets, but she just could NOT get into being a 'Veggie Person.' She liked her tortilla chips and her M&Ms and her pizza, and that was that. But if Gwyneth Paltrow promised her that she could hide a boatload of spinach in a chocolate cupcake and not even taste it, hell, she was all for trying it!

And she could see from the dimple Hotch was flashing, that he knew what a challenge this one was for her.

"I know, sweetheart," he brushed his fingers along her cheek, "and you are a good mom just for trying. And I'm sure we can find some recipes to up the vegetable intake and lower the fat that will actually taste good. Maybe a vegetable lasagna, or adding fresh tomatoes in with the mac and cheese." He leaned over to give her a kiss, "we'll work it out."

"Mmm," Emily moaned, "now I want lasagna and mac and cheese."

Hotch started to chuckle.

"All right," he straightened up with a squeeze to her knee, "you need to eat that pizza before you start drooling on the bed. And we'll work out some new menu options tomorrow night," his eyebrow quirked up, "'k?"

She gave him a little smile.

"Okay."

So with that he leaned down to give her one more kiss, and one more gentle pat to her belly . . . Emily had noticed that he always said hello and goodbye to the baby, it was adorable . . . Hotch headed out to pick up his other child.

It wasn't until she heard his footsteps heading down the stairs, that she turned her attention to the giant box sitting next to her on the bed.

"Ah yes," she reached for the cover, "finally," she flipped the lid back, "we're alone."

And with that she picked up her first (and for the moment, only) gooey slice. For a second she closed her eyes, allowing herself to savor the beautiful aroma of tomatoes and fennel and mozzarella.

She'd missed it.

But the savoring only lasted for a few seconds before she couldn't wait any longer. She opened her mouth, and chomped down on the first tantalizing bite. Slowly she chewed . . . and then swallowed. Then her head fell back as she sighed.

Bliss.

A/N 2: So yeah, we're home, and we'll be meeting Jack next.